puppet strings
by LabyrinthDweller
Summary: Do not take the M rating lightly. This is a story of the abused, nothing less than that.


_***To reiterate: Do not take the mature rating lightly. This is an ugly, ugly fic. **For a while I didn't want to post this because of the content, but after a while I felt some of the underlying message was much more important and I've taken the time to build up the courage to let it be posted._

_This is a story of the abused. For those of you who have been there, or are still there, **you are not alone.**_

_Even if you need someone to talk to, I am here if you need me._

_~LabyDwell_*

_This feels like one of the darkest fics I've ever written. The song, "Sex and Violence" by Scissor Sisters, is absolutely perfect for Walter's personality (I think) and it's terrifying while at the same time being a musically masterful song._

* * *

><p><strong>puppet strings<strong>

_I need a witness to see the mess I've made_

_there's a broken lampshade_

_ash trays_

_burnt floors_

_beds unmade_

As if the act of dying hadn't hurt her enough, as if the act of waking up in a living hell hadn't dampened her spirit enough, as if anything wasn't enough to scar her soul at this point. Bleeding to the brink of death had crushed her foundations, but even through that there were still some remnants of her old self that Eileen could still cling to, and after a while she even felt a moderate feeling of trust and companionship with the disheveled neighbor protecting her. She would even go so far as to say she felt _safe_ with him, but those thoughts were not running through her head now.

_are you sleeping? if you are, do you dream of what I'm doing_

_to you, undo you, through with you, until I need a round of—_

Always the whisperings in her head teased her, mocked her, took a hold of her heart and squeezed it so Eileen had to gasp and rub her chest to make sure she was still alive, still working. But every time she had to double-check to make sure she was still there she could feel herself continuously diminishing, as though some grotesque thumb was pressing further and further down on her head, pushing pressure onto her wobbly bones until at one point she was sure she was going to snap, break, shatter, explode. How she wished she could fight back, but every time she tried the pressure on her increased and she shrank away in tears, body shivering as dark red veins spread over her skin, pulsating hotly and thickly. The numbers on her back seemed to grow and spread with the veins, seeping into her already weakened muscles to remove any semblance of strength from her.

_every time I spend myself it never runs too low_

_I can't escape the need for sex and violence_

_never let you see them_

_hand in hand, one is just the other_

_softest touch is deeper than the ocean_

_give it to me faster_

_feel it, feel it,_

_sex and violence_

_it's gonna make you cry_

It didn't start out like this; at first the voices in her head were definitely not hers, but they weren't a menace, continuously whispering sweet nothings and encouraging words. Because the thoughts greatly disturbed her as she could never tell who or where they were coming from she tried to hear them in her neighbor's quiet, shy voice, just so she could bring familiarity to the alien quality of the words. The moment the words turned against her, however, she hastily pushed her neighbor's voice from her head because she couldn't bear the thought that he would ever say those things to her. Once his voice was out of the way she slowly came to the realization of who it was that was speaking things to her, and she could only whimper and stutter in the corner while her neighbor had left her alone, for if she told him that Walter was speaking to her as they walked, well, she wasn't quite sure what would happen.

_I was a real man, stealing all their trade_

_I was stronger, self-made, well-paid_

_so groomed_

_persuasive_

_you were walking home that night, too kind to be elusive_

_where do you live?_

_what will you give?_

_who were you with?_

_and how're you getting home?_

But she knew it wouldn't be good. Perhaps Walter would appear, eyes wild and mouth frothing with hatred, perhaps she would close her eyes and when she would open them again blood would cover her clothes and there would be her neighbor, torn to pieces that were strewn so far apart she wouldn't even recognize them as his. Or maybe it would be the other way around, maybe _she'd_ be the mutilated one, and he'd be the perpetrator.

_does anybody know right now exactly where you are?_

Or maybe no one would die, but she'd wish she'd be dead.

_A step inside's a step too far!_

It felt like a seizure to hear his words rake grooves under her scalp, to feel his horrific breath on the nape of her neck, to see his grimy fingers move just above her skin as if he were feeling her up, hovering over her breasts as though he were about to grip them violently, then, perhaps, tear them apart; climbing up her thighs to a place she knew she would scream in ultimate, desperate terror if he so much as motioned to touch; moving across her collarbone and neck to tease her, remind her of how much her life depended on his child-like play, remind her of how much she was only just a puppet in his terrible fingers.

_The sweetest taste is never gonna leave you_

_Even when it hurts you_

A puppet exasperated by her neighbor's bruised and battered body before her. Hot tears running down her cheeks, Eileen wept piteously as she fought against Walter's intentions, fought to keep her _fucking arm down_ so she wouldn't hit him again, wouldn't try to _kill_ him again, _god_ how she _hated herself_.

_Breathe in_

What little of herself there was left to hate.

_Breathe in_

Softly, quietly, she begged her neighbor for what little forgiveness he could muster; whatever he would give her she would greedily seize for her own to help rebuild herself again, even if it was too late.

_Violence, violence_

Eventually she could feel from afar that he had gotten what he wanted, and she could no longer feel for herself; she could only feel the strings attached to her wrists and ankles move in accordance to whatever orders she was given. How she would resist if she had the strength.

_Violence, violence_

How she could only weep as she watched herself step closer to death.

_Violence, violence._


End file.
